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Then there was Roger. I could not imagine a cock so big. The first time I went down on him, I was in awe. I didn't think they got that big. My deceased husband and Jerry were both pretty average, I was to find out; perhaps 6 inches. Myron's was closer to 3, maybe 3 and half inches, and that was when it was excited. Roger's cock was over eight inches and thick. I tried and tried to get it all in my mouth, but never got much more than his head in my mouth. And it stretched my pussy to the point that it was painful. If he'd kiss it and make it feel better, I might have tolerated him. He didn't. Pain was not part of the fun of sex. Good-bye, Roger.

How about Nick? He was almost the one. I almost dropped him the first night we slept together. Since Jerry, I had a rule no blowjob until I was eaten; eaten properly. On our first date, he was a lot of fun, and when he suggested that we continue at his apartment, I accepted.

It was a disaster. The worst possible fuck you could imagine. Small cock; over quickly. Could there be anything worse?

On the other hand, Nick made me laugh whenever we were together, I laughed. I always went home with a smile on my face, except for the fucking. He was so disappointing.

However, one night as we started and I prepared myself for another disastrous night, Nick went down on me. As good a pussy eater as Jerry had been, Nick was so much better. His tongue was like magic; it played magic tricks on my special spot. I saw stars; I saw lightning bolts flashing through my brain. With the lightning there was thunder. Thunder that shook the bed like nothing before. Not like the best fucks I'd ever had. Way, way better.

And he didn't stop. He didn't stop when I had my first orgasm. "Lily, you have the most delicious pussy. I'm going to want to keep eating it." And he did.

"Oh my, oh my, oooooooooooh Nick, ooooooooh Nick."

I tried to rationalize: I could put up with the lousy fucking for the high quality of his tongue work, but no, I couldn't reciprocate. The truth was that I missed sucking cock, and I wouldn't suck a cock that couldn't give me a good fucking.

"Please, Lily, give me another chance. I'm almost fifty-years-old," Nick said, "I've had too many lovers to count, but I've never eaten a finer, more beautiful pussy. I promise I'll try to be better in bed; a better fuck."

I did. Give him another chance. Nick failed miserably. Let me put it another way; he may have known where his tongue belonged, but had no idea what to do with his cock. That may seem harsh, but I'm only partially exaggerating. Good-bye, Nick.

TO BE CONTINUED

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